


now you know me (for your eyes only)

by eberbae (dustyjournal)



Series: alter!verse [4]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 2015/2016 Season, Cuddling, Fluff, M/M, eagle!dylan, kitten!mitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-11-01 18:55:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10927947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustyjournal/pseuds/eberbae
Summary: Dylan can’t really explain why he decides to show Mitch his trick.(Can be read as a standalone).





	now you know me (for your eyes only)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to remembermyfic for betaing this, and for the lovely Ria and LJ for their continued support. This verse wouldn't be the same without you <3

Dylan can’t really explain why he decides to show Mitch his trick. 

He had considered showing Mitch after they’d returned from Ivan Hlinka, upset with how it had all turned out but suddenly friends. It had been more than a simple connection, though. Something about Mitch sparked Dylan’s need to change, and Mitch had even stayed human with Dylan while most of the guys changed as part of their team-bonding. He had mentioned, off-hand to the group, that his alter’s some kind of leopard cub, but that’s all Dylan knows. Dylan had found the security Mitch’s presence offers both inexplicable and ubiquitous, but he still hadn’t known Mitch that well. Sure, they could make beautiful hockey together, but Dylan couldn’t be sure that Mitch could actually keep a secret.

It isn’t until they’re about to go to their first training camp with their respective NHL teams that Dylan feels that the time is right. They’re good friends now, trusting each other with secrets and fears, and that urge to change still arises whenever Mitch is around. Dylan thinks that he may be developing a crush, too, but he’s had plenty of crushes to whom he has never shown this side of himself.

The thing is, too, that Dylan has always been very private with his alter. He can’t really explain it; he knows how intimate it is to change in the same room as someone and a lot of people only do that with those closest to them, but lots of people - especially hockey boys, because they’re a special breed - are okay with being in their alter form around a wider circle. 

Not for Dylan, though. Only his closest family and Davo have even seen his alter, and only his brother has seen him change. He’s - he doesn’t know how to explain it, can never put words to it. Being an eagle should be cool, something he’s confident about. But he just - can’t. 

As a young teenager, when he was still learning how to change, he would read and read and read about alters, fascinated. They became something precious to him, something to be cherished and never taken for granted. Some people called the alters “counterparts”, an extension of oneself that should have a special purpose. He had taken that to heart, no matter what Ryan or his parents had said. When some of his peers had been whispering their newly-discovered alter to one another, he would keep his mouth shut. Obviously, rumours spread about him having a really embarrassing alter, because kids are assholes. There had been rumours, even, that he didn’t have an alter - something entirely unheard of. But still, he had kept his mouth shut. 

So when Dylan decides to show Mitch, he’s equally excited and terrified. Not that Mitch will laugh, or tell, or anything. Dylan trusts Mitch. But still, his stomach flips when he asks Mitch if he wants to go for a walk.

Mitch talks the whole way to Dylan’s spot. Dylan guides them because he’s never taken Mitch here, and Mitch follows happily. Dylan thinks about how nice it would be to hold Mitch’s hand to help keep the familiar feeling at bay, the one that gets stronger and stronger as he walks down the familiar, unbeaten path. He pushes it down as much as he is able, needs that feeling to build quickly and not let it slowly build, for his trick to work.

They finally push through the final group of trees and get to the clearing. The sun highlights the hundreds of dandelions, the grass that reaches past their ankles. Mitch looks around, mouth slightly agape, taking in the beauty of it. Showing him this, even, was something Dylan had been apprehensive about. His heart is beating hard against his chest even though he knows this was the right decision.

“I want to show you a trick,” he blurts out. 

Mitch regards Dylan with a soft smile, eyes with a hint of mirth in them. “I don’t think you had to bring me all the way here to show me another chess move.”

And Mitch, well. Mitch knows how to unknot any tightness in Dylan’s chest, just like that. Dylan laughs, just a breath of air. “It’s not a chess move,” he says. “And don’t freak out.”

He doesn’t have to explain what Mitch would be freaking out about because he starts to strip. He leaves his boxers, though. The trick still works this way. The grass feels so nice, so familiar, against his bare feet.

He takes a few steps back from Mitch, who’s looking at him with a neutral expression, patient. The anticipation grows in Dylan’s chest, but the nerves are gone.

“Stand right there,” Dylan instructs. And then he takes a breath, and opens the floodgates for his need to change.

It’s like he’s done countless times before, on his own: the rush builds as he starts to run across the clearing, the world turning sharper with every step. He feels it reach its crest and he jumps, hard and fast, into the air. 

And then he’s flying up, up, up above the treeline. He can hear Mitch laugh in surprise and delight, and Dylan’s heart soars along with the rest of him. 

His human brain doesn’t take a backseat when he’s an eagle, not like Davo’s alter. It’s like the bird and the human share, 50-50, perfect harmony of freedom and thrill. 

He circles the treetops once, twice, before gliding down towards Mitch. Thankfully, Mitch seems to get it, holding out his arm straight to the side, stiff. Dylan lands on it with ease, beating his wings once to lessen the blow. 

Dylan turns his head to look at Mitch, squawks once. Mitch is all grins, and Dylan wishes he could smile back. 

“That was really cool, Dyls,” Mitch says, awed. 

Dylan squawks again as Mitch pets him once, all the way down his back. Why he didn’t do this earlier, he doesn’t know. But he’s so, so glad he did.

He cocks his head towards Mitch, then to the sky. Mitch, understanding the question, answers, “Yeah, go ahead and fly around a bit. I’ll hang out.” 

Dylan extends a wing to hit Mitch in the face lightly, and Mitch laughs. Dylan takes off again, ecstatic to be able to get one more flight in before he’s dealing with training camp and the potential to get cut, to clear his mind and look at the world from above. He can never explain the fantastic escape of it all.

He circles back to Mitch a couple of times, bringing him random stuff from trees like branches and torn-up birds nests. Mitch laughs and Dylan lets him scratch his head, his feathers. It’s a lot, to let someone in like this. 

He doesn’t stay in his alter for too long. The next time he lands on Mitch’s arm, the sun has dropped below the treeline and Mitch is shivering. Dylan grabs his sweatpants with his claws and flies to a short tree just out of Mitch’s eyesight to perch and change. 

Once back, he quickly throws on his sweatpants and sprints to Mitch. Dylan just feels so light and airy, so nimble, all his tense muscles relaxed. Mitch hands him the rest of his clothing and he gets dressed as quickly as possible, the chill of the air permeating his skin quickly. 

They don’t talk much on the walk back, but Dylan doesn’t think they need to. It’s a comfortable silence, a conversation in its own right. 

Mitch hugs him once they get back to Dylan’s place. “Thank you for that,” he says, muffled by Dylan’s shoulder. 

Dylan is - well, Dylan was not prepared for that. He takes a breath. “Thanks for being cool with it.” 

“Of course,” Mitch replies, like it’s very important that Dylan knows that it is. He offers a small smile before getting in his car and driving off. 

Dylan waves as Mitch’s car gets smaller and smaller, settled. For the first time in weeks, he thinks he might be able to get a good night’s sleep.

\--

They both get sent back down, and it stings. A lot, for a long time. But there’s always next year, and Dylan’s not going to stop fighting for it. 

It’s good to have someone to talk to about it, too. Mitch replies quickly, sharply, able to keep up with Dylan’s sense of humour. He ends up talking to Mitch more than anyone else, and finds it increasingly hard to deny his crush. He always said that he could do a long-distance relationship, but he finds he wants to be wherever Mitch is when they FaceTime, and he doesn’t think a relationship would make that any easier. 

So he pushes that down as much as he can and focuses on what they do have together: a solid, dependable friendship. With a little bit of on-ice hatred in the mix. 

It’s a couple of months into the season when they both have a break, so they head back home. Mitch invites Dylan to a party on the Friday, the only time they could see each other between family and other friends, and Dylan accepts.

The party is fine, Dylan admits, but his heart’s not in it. He’s much more interested in getting caught up with Mitch, in swapping stories and talking hockey. They have a drink each before Mitch says, “D’you wanna get out of here?”

Dylan doesn’t feel weird at all answering yes. 

They head back to Mitch’s on foot, chatting the whole way. It’s natural, good, and when Dylan grabs Mitch’s hand, Mitch holds his right back. 

“Missed you, man,” Dylan says, heart still beating double-time at the fact that he’s  _ currently holding hands with Mitch Marner.  _

Mitch smiles, closed-mouthed, back at him. “Missed you too,” is his soft reply. There’s something in his eyes that Dylan can’t place, but he doesn’t search too long before dropping his gaze.

It’s still early when they get to Mitch’s place, and Dylan’s feeling energized by the walk. 

“Wanna watch a movie?” Mitch suggests. 

“Sure,” Dylan agrees. “I hear  _ The Martian  _ is good.”

They settle in on Mitch’s bed, atop the covers, laptop balanced between them and pressed against each other’s sides. Mitch’s foot is twitching, though, so Dylan moves the laptop to rest on his own thighs instead. When he looks over, Mitch is worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. 

“What’s up?” Dylan asks carefully. 

Mitch looks at Dylan, looks away, looks back. “I want to thank you again for showing me your alter,” he starts. “Davo told me once that you were really private about it. I didn’t want to pry. But, yeah. It means a lot that you trusted me with that. And I promise I still haven't told anyone, and don’t plan to.”

Dylan’s not any more prepared for this time around. All he can think to reply is, “thank you, Mitch. For being someone I can trust.”

The moment hangs heavy between them, a lot of words they don’t know how to say. 

Mitch is the one to break the silence. “I kind of want to show you my alter, if that's okay with you. I just- I don't know, I trust you too. And I don't get out of my head all that much. Never hurt a fly. Or human.” He’s grinning, but it’s stiff. 

“Yeah,” Dylan replies, a little breathless. “Of course. Wow, uh. Now?” And if  _ that  _ didn’t sound intelligent.

Mitch nods. “Just grab a ball of yarn, or something.”

Dylan laughs, shutting the laptop and crossing his legs. “Noted.” 

Surprisingly, though, Mitch asks bashfully, “Can we just, uh, cuddle for a bit? It helps with the Crossover.”

“Oh!” Dylan exclaims, then settles back onto the bed, opens the laptop. “‘Course.”

Mitch smiles and grabs a blanket from his closet, then lays down on the bed with it draped overtop of him. He starts to strip and though Dylan can’t actually see Mitch’s naked body, he averts his eyes. Once presumably naked, Mitch gets to work at curling around Dylan, blanket still wrapped around his body. It takes a few tries for Mitch to find the most comfortable position, but he finally settles down with his head on Dylan’s chest, one leg wrapped around Dylan’s, arm across Dylan’s torso. It’s nice, warm, and so comfortable. Mitch makes a little humming noise as he squeezes Dylan, just once. 

“Good?” Dylan asks.

“Mhmm,” Mitch answers. It feels right for Dylan to put a hand in Mitch’s hair, and Mitch hums contently when Dylan does so.

The movie is, well, pretty boring in comparison to watching Mitch sink deeper into the Crossover. He hums a lot and rubs his head against Dylan exactly like a cat would. Dylan doesn’t dare jostle him, just focuses on keeping his breathing steady, his hand gently massaging Mitch’s hair. 

Having someone change against him is something Dylan never thought he’d experience. It’s lightning-quick, the way Mitch’s hair slips out of Dylan’s grasp and arm retracts from around Dylan’s chest. The weight of Mitch is gone in a flash, and then there’s a disgruntled but high snarl from under Mitch’s blanket. 

Dylan lifts the blanket to reveal a tan-coloured, large kitten - though he’s bigger than any full-size house cat Dylan’s ever seen - looking up at him imploringly. Mitch’s alter has wide, pointy ears, green eyes, and black streaks all over his back, face, and paws. But that’s not really what gets Dylan’s attention. 

“Holy fuck, Mitch, your  _ teeth, _ ” Dylan blurts out. He doesn’t mean for it to come out so shocked, but, wow. Whatever Mitch had said his alter was - a leopard cub, or something, he’s terribly mistaken. And, by the look of confusion on Mitch’s round face, no one’s ever mentioned the teeth to Mitch before. 

Mitch mewls and bats Dylan’s leg before jumping directly onto Dylan’s stomach. Mitch is deceivingly heavy, making all of the air leave Dylan’s body in a  _ whoosh.  _

“You do know you have fangs, right?” Dylan asks once he’s regained his breath.

Mitch furrows his whole face. Dylan thinks it’s supposed to be frustrated, confused, but it’s adorable more than anything. 

“Nevermind,” Dylan dismisses, then sits up a bit. The motion forces Mitch backwards, to a much more breathable position between Dylan’s crossed legs. Instead of hopping out and finding that ball of yarn he had mentioned earlier, Mitch flips to his back and makes a batting motion at Dylan, which is definitely the most adorable thing Dylan’s ever seen.

“You’re a menace,” he says, just before he grabs one of Mitch’s paws with one hand - are those  _ full claws?  _ \- and starts rubbing Mitch’s belly with the other. 

They spend awhile like that, Dylan giving Mitch a full body rub while Mitch licks Dylan’s fingers, palm, inner leg. It tickles a bit, but Dylan doesn’t tell Mitch to stop. Mitch purrs intermittently, rubs his head against Dylan’s legs in affection a couple of times, but mostly just lets Dylan pet him. Dylan talks a little bit about hockey, a little bit about how cute Mitch is, and Mitch swishes his tail back and forth happily. 

Mitch hops out after what seems like not nearly enough time and hustles back under his blanket. Dylan scoots away, just in case it’s what he thinks it is, and is rewarded with watching a bare leg fly out from under the blanket, almost kicking him right in the knee. 

“Smooth,” Dylan deadpans, then laughs softly as Mitch grumbles, trying to find which way is up, apparently. 

“I was trying to be  _ considerate,  _ asshole,” Mitch retorts, and the natural flow of their bickering sends home that this is okay. Maybe more than okay, even. 

Dylan waits until Mitch has rolled off the bed, put on some shorts, and gets back on the bed before he says, softly, “That was nice. Thanks, Mitch.” 

Mitch looks at him, a little wide-eyed. “Thank  _ you _ ,” he replies, serious. Then his face furrows in a way almost too similar to the way his alter’s did, and he says, “What do you mean I had fangs?” 

Dylan huffs, but smiles. “You can’t be serious, dude. You have a tooth on each side,” he points to where the fangs would be in his own mouth, “that sticks out, like, an inch from your mouth.” 

Mitch still looks confused, though. “Do leopard cubs have fangs?” 

“No,” Dylan replies confidently. “But I have an idea of what does.” 

He grabs the laptop - movie long-forgotten - and searches  _ sabertooth kitten.  _ What pops up are some really overdone caricature drawings and a couple of poor house cats at the mercy of their owner’s creativity, but then there’s a few illustrations that look almost scarily identical to Mitch’s alter.

Dylan looks to Mitch, whose face is frozen in shock. Dylan doesn’t really know what to do, so he just waits for Mitch to process it all. 

It’s only a few beats later that Mitch looks up at Dylan and says, “Okay. Well, you learn something new every day.” 

Dylan laughs and pulls Mitch into a hug. Mitch goes easily, wraps his arms around Dylan. They break away after a count of five, Mitch looking much more at peace with it all when they do so. 

“A sabertooth kitten, eh?” He muses. “That’s pretty fuckin’ cool.”

Laughter bubbles out of Dylan, if only for a moment. “Only you would be that extra, Marner.”

Dylan stays the night. It’s so easy to curl up with each other, to kiss Mitch’s forehead once, softly.

There’s a whole lot that they don’t really know, but right now, that’s okay.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I know the tag said just kitten!mitch, but I wanted to make it a surprise :D [Here's](http://ricklovell.tumblr.com/post/154557950867/sabertooth-kitten-a-quick-digital-painting-using) the awesome drawing that inspired his alter!
> 
> Come visit me on tumblr at [eberbae](http://eberbae.tumblr.com/)!


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